Best Stables Poems
Porcelain doll, with a face so pretty
a country gal, ran away to the city
Worked in a bar, dancing on tables
beat shovelling sh-it, in Pa’s stables
Looks for love, but only finds bums
lowlife gamblers, in rundown slums
Go back home
not a chance
One day soon
find romance
Porcelain doll, life’s becoming gritty
rent’s due, ain’t nothing in her kitty
All knocked up, mascara streaking
bloodshot eyes, skin’s unappealing
Sleeps in the pines, winter it snows
crystallised tears, angel eyes froze
Barely alive
baby’s dead
No way back
no warm bed
Porcelain doll, face’s the committee
lunatic asylum, nobody shows pity
Shock treatment, four hourly dose’s
prison guard lesbians, with halitosis
broken doll, made one bad decision
they chipped her head, thin incision
Eyes don’t blink
stare at space
No expression
just a doll’s face
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
stables, age, allusion, girl, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Stars have never told a lie when wise men look unto the sky.
Messages from God on high, of happiness his angels cry,
Soon dawns a blessed morn.
Wise men travel through a land
with stately camels over sand,
Their caravan majestically grand
When Jesus Christ was born.
Shepherds watching over sheep, baby lambs they safely keep.
Some of them were fast asleep on a mountain rough and steep,
Soon dawns a blessed morn.
An Angel to these men appear
Saying they should have no fear
For the Christ child is now near,
When Jesus Christ was born.
To Bethlehem they journey long, Joseph with his love so strong,
Mary with child had done no wrong; the baby did to God belong
Soon dawns a blessed morn.
This baby comes to save from sin
No rooms were found in any Inn
A stables all they found for him
When Jesus Christ was born.
A star shone brightly overhead, lighting up this humble shed,
A lowly manger for his bed, the joyful news had quickly spread
When dawned that blessed morn.
Here wise men came and gifts did bring
Shepherds bowed to their new King
Mankind rejoices while angels sing
When Jesus Christ was born.
Contest: One of your Best
12.01.2014
Categories:
stables, birth, christian, christmas, love,
Form:
Rhyme
FILLY’S FAMOUS STORY
Although I am pink, don’t ever think
That this filly is just frilly and silly,
For I am a thorough bred filly who instead
Of eating just oats, for my owner dotes
On me, am fed in a pasture of my very own,
Whose green grass is a sight to be seen,
And oh, so pristine!
What is my mode of work you might ask,
It certainly does not involve any task,
For I am shown off to the rich and elite,
Who think it’s an absolute treat,
To be shown a beauty like me
I do sound vain but where else would
They find a pink filly to see!
My mane is brushed every day,
With a gold plated brush by Fay,
She is so proud, I always draw a crowd,
And is quick to explain, I’m a descendant
From the stables of the ex and late
Senator Nicholas Brady, I’m no ordinary lady!
Fay has desperately tried to find me a mate,
But am truly fussy, I know my destiny and fate
Is not from the regular horses around, but to be
Found amongst the Arabian horses abroad, for imagine
A local brown dowdy horse, I’d be fraught!
Yes I’m a snob, my mate must be a real heart throb,
For my vision and dreams are of never
Ending meadows, and flowers, and trees and streams
And a handsome horse of the same breeding as me,
Maybe even a Lipizzaner who has a reputed background,
They have been around for quite a while, Fay reads
My thoughts and gives me a smile, hey Frilly don’t
Stress pretty friend, for it is my eternal intent,
That you be matched one day with an aristocratic
Horse, and together you will take a romantic course,
And have little foals, of which one might be pink,
So never, ever think that your predominant,
Pink genetic line will become extinct, you re such a
Refined fine filly, nothing about you is silly,
You will go down in history and be recorded,
As the most beautiful pink horse ever born,
Have patience, you will be rewarded!
Frilly looked at Fay, and gave her a neigh,
She loved Fay so, would Fay ever know, Frilly
Hoped so, for if Fay looked deep into Frilly’s
Eyes, Fay would know that she had won
Frilly’s heart as first prize!
Entering contest "A Fairy Tale For Children"
Sponsored By EVE ROPER
2019/01/27
Categories:
stables, horse,
Form:
Free verse
He pulled up to the Triple "T" Ranch in a shiny Cadillac.
In his trailer was an Arabian steed with the finest tack.
He wore Tony Lama alligator boots and Calvin Klein jeans,
And a stylish Stetson hat - he looked like a man of means!
He strode to the corral where grizzled cowpokes lazed.
They chortled at the greenhorn, each of them amazed!
"Where's the boss?" he asked, "I'm seeking a position!"
"Over yonder" said they. (The boss eyed him with great suspicion!)
The boss sauntered over to see what the hullabaloo was all about.
"I'll handle this! You fellers git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized up the lad saying, "Son, I ain't impressed with them fancy labels!
But you're hired! Here's a shovel! Ya kin start by muckin' out them stables!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Green Humor Rhymes" Contest
Categories:
stables, green, humorous, work,
Form:
Rhyme
The dawn spoke her name like a silken secret
carried carefree by the tradewinds of lust and larceny
imported from the traderoutes of paradise and pandemonium,
sequined with violet venom she venerates the virtue of volition
her love is unlawful, unequalled in unrest, righteous in conquest,
tender in temptation, torrid your surrender, her beauty a will bender,
Queen of Empire Passion, warrior unknown to submission
her kingdom was not inherited, glory and throne ungifted,
the treasures, stables and territories, battles and crown all won,
rich in intellect, endowed with rare resources, affluent in original passion
bejeweled in natural beauty, she bewitches beasts and men alike,
Poets pen her preciously as Woman Total, Priests implore her pardon,
male servants pander to her anger and ardor, satisfaction she commands,
Sisterhood the symbol and soul of her mission,
I was just a man, a wanderer wading through her reign,
from the unsubdued North I came, a curious traveler with ancient name,
my tribe unfamiliar, underestimated, a Chieftain of steady pulse,
tresspassing towards her roots my aim was direct knowledge of her
woman of renown cunning and learning, woman of exotic ability,
seeking teaching and romance, though I would not be her Subject or victim,
this she knew, this she abhorred, a challenge to her dominance,
I agreed to meet her alone in the open morning of war,
in an abeyounce of gliding fire she comes riding out of the sun
regalia of black roses against red tears flying above her shoulder,
our horses begin a battle tromp, breaths heavy with moist mania
she has leopards in her eyes
poinsettias and death's palms painted on thighs,
scalps of exlovers and enemies slung on sadle
we acknowledge one another with ritual yell
I exclaim, Warrior Poetess, she screams Poet Warrior!
dismounting with mutual vigor our combat erupts
cutting my cheek with her blade's lip
kicking me in the ribs
I clinch her collared throat
and heel trip us to the ground
she snarls, I growl,
a glimpse of rescue in eachother's eyes -
J.A.B.
Categories:
stables, courage, desire, fantasy, gothic,
Form:
Epic
Grandpa’s chair still there
though stables are empty now
ghostly echoes of neighing
still hear Gramps praying
“Please, Lord, let me keep my farm”
blessings bestowed on our clan
*Entry for Rick’s “Chair in Shadowed Room” contest
Categories:
stables, faith, family
Form:
Choka
A CAT, A HORSE AND JUDE
I am a tabby, with one green eye and the other blue,
My human mummy always says “North I love you’,
And I reply ‘hey Jude, you’re amazing, I love you too’
She cuddled me, “without you North, what would I do!’
It is Winter, and very cold, we live in Canada up North
Hence my name, I lay by a log fire and constantly purr,
I suddenly spot a mouse running back and forth
But too lazy to move, Jude bends down and strokes my fur.
‘Tomorrow we will go up to the stables and visit Gemini’
Gemini is one of Jude’s race horses, he is pretty cool,
‘Please don’t put me in the saddle, he might take off and I’ll die!’
‘No, dear Tabby, I certainly won’t, know you’re afraid, I’m no fool.’
Gemini heard them coming, got excited and started to neigh,
Jude loved horses, stoked his mane and kissed his silky forehead,
‘Jude is a sweetheart’ said North as she walked away to get some hay,
‘I agree’ said Gemini, ‘I know her well for here I was bred’.
Categories:
stables, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
The long dark winter had expired
And spring with its vibrant colors was here
I was enticed by the great beauty of the outside
And planned to feign a headache after lunch
While my tutor, Mr. Hobart showed great concern
He gave Instructions that I not be disturbed
As I would be taking a long, quiet nap after noon
I do admit, I concocted a lie to later make my escape
I was free to chase dragonflies with lucent wings
Clear across the vast green lawn
Catching bull frogs in the garden pond
And listening to Old Ned tell those tall tales
To his eager audience down at the stables
Never did I realize that I could be found out
I do not regret my adventures of that afternoon
It was the most enjoyable time I had had in a while
Now I face the circumstance of my deception
I was given a choice of punishment…
Either to spend three afternoons confined to the library
Or have the incident relayed to my parents abroad...
I have chosen to remain within these dark drab walls
Bored to no end, that I am!
However, I must say that I have learned my lesson
And through my fault, Rover, it seems is confined as well
My faithful old hound sympathizes; he understands how I feel
He gives hugs to console me whenever I am close to tears
I know how much he loves me as he never leaves my side
Not even when we know very well, that I have been a naughty boy
~*~
7/7/13
Note: Inspired by the "Naughty Boy" Painting by Briton Riviere. (Google)
fineartamerica.com/.../naughty-boy-or-compulsory-education-briton-rivi...?
Categories:
stables, art, child, dog, friend,
Form:
Free verse
He
is
in fact
a poet -
he really is a
poet - and a real horse trainer.
He has held one-term jobs at various colleges -
but never so far away that he can't keep in touch with the stables. He gives readings -
but only - as he says - once in a blue moon - he doesn't stress the poetic employment - sometimes this is annoying this - affectation -
but one can see the point - when you're busy with horses people can see that you are busy - but when you're busy at making up a poem you look as if you're in a state of idleness and you're too embarrassed to explain.
Categories:
stables, business, horse, poetry, poets,
Form:
Fibonacci
Ive worn out these old cowboy boots to walk an endless plank of timeless dreams, you leave no trace except a tread mark of my broken heart.
I bare these wrinkeled scares to spare a portrait of this old town and country! I dared to go,is now a vivid memory of a playless rodeo I once had.
Moving on pass these stables of my home, knowing theres no way back I am sure to let go as I fleece with nothing but the wind of a wild horse where you were once my stallone, now just another spur on a pair of worn out cowboy boots, i am left to run free like: WILD HORSES.
Categories:
stables, cowboy-western, lost love, old,
Form:
Acrostic
Spare a thought
For buffaloes, bulls and bears groaning, mourning, starving
Under your collar don’t blow hot
Making rivers and rodents sad, carving
Space and time you don’t own
Encroaching on privileges animals and plants possess
In their comfort and discomfort zone
You dare to distress and stress
Best to minimize the plight
Reptiles and rabbits confront every morning and afternoon
With no morsels of grub in sight
As savannas and simians croon
Shambling in starvation style
Bulging bellies boast as labels of stables and fables of gluttony
For a convoy of jalopies cruising in single file
Pay last respect to Tony
Who’d passed on in pitiful poverty
Impecunious
Although in death no novelty
Comes through under the guise of ingenious
Crafting of manipulation
But you’d do well to sacrifice creature comforts to elevate the fate
Endured by long suffering trees and tigers whose daily nourishment ration
Ought to funnel a debate
On the injustice witnessed globally when a tiny few
Gorges on two thirds of world resources
With neither care nor clue
On the abuse fauna and flora sources
Suffer
Dwindle
Prefer
Decrease as the self satisfying spindle
Spins and spins
With little thought on air and water pollution
Pins
On environmental dissolution
Metamorphosing the Earth into a less habitable planet
Treated with disdain
Depleting the Earth’s net
Worth as polluters gain bargains again and again
Super profits
Turning a blind eye
To sarcasm skits, bludgeon bits and tendentious tweets
Lying inside a liberal lie
That all’s well
Environment concerns mean nothing
As imbalances and inhospitable elements swell
To spell doom unless you start caring for Mother Earth and her everything.
Categories:
stables, poems,
Form:
Free verse
There was a day when hollow teeth and streams,
The marrow, blood and trains of thought,
Of night black dreams,
Ran their course and floods did wrought,
And changed the shores of all that seems.
Nothing will be as it was just before,
The vision has spoken,
One small token,
Of a future fill’d with crooked faces to the core.
The moment’s now to know,
The summer’s bizarre snow,
For it will always be,
Like it never was ever not.
There is no way to feel sorry,
Fate’s folding hands has always caught,
The visions men find in their nets,
And women standing by who stare.
On what have they possibly staked their bets?
Now to be for sure the dream continued,
To arouse small town vows,
And erase semantic hows,
By tracing the origins of all that is rude
To the holy water of saints
And those who believe in chromosome paints.
The light was parted to let in the crude,
Let this truth be shown,
And forever known,
There can be nothing wrong when the rude,
Sing their song
Throng,throng
Wave their arms with strange attitude
Spill their milk,
Sit on tables,
Dine in stables,
They belong with their ilk
Don’t touch these families with your wooden mood!
The dream abated,
Grammar’s laws took to drum again
The awful games you hated
Once more began to make their stain.
Whosoever chooses to inhale
Not the air but the clouds
Must always run from mobs and crowds.
And make their own fairy tale.
One can not cook warmth from passover wood,
Nor, should you ever forget,
Make love by doing what you should.
Categories:
stables, change, culture, freedom, future,
Form:
Ode
Sergeant Major O'Malley, Seventh Cavalry, had served nigh on three decades.
He rose through the ranks havin' served in squads, companies and brigades.
Second lieutenants were nuisances and he treated them as if they didn't exist!
He took recalcitrant lads behind the barracks to administer discipline with his fist!
You'd better have your horse and tack lookin' keen for Saturday mornin' parades,
Or Sergeant Major O'Malley would sear the ozone with his thunderin' tirades!
He'd escort you to the stables to shovel manure if you ever mistreated a horse!
Sergeant Major O'Malley's colorful lingo left one with a feelin' of remorse!
He had absolutely no patience with the foibles of raw and bumblin' recruits.
Lord have mercy on the hapless lad who failed to shine his saber and his boots!
Should a trooper snooze in the saddle when escortin' the colonel's stage,
Sergeant Major O'Malley would stomp and rave unleashin' a towerin' rage!
At the break of dawn when reveille sounded, he'd burst through the barracks door,
Yellin' "Up and at 'em me lads! Outta them bunks! What am I a-payin' ye for!
Ye sorry excuses fer sojers! Hie to the stables! Them hosses needs oats and hay!
And when that's done, git back here to eat yer grub and scrub this filthy bay!"
Things were different when he dismounted his horse and entered his house!
The one who gave orders and 'wore the stripes' at home was his formidable spouse!
He meekly responded to her constant commands with a resigned, "Yes, my dear."
"Taps" was a welcome sound at close of day in Sergeant Major O'Malley's ear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
stables, funnyhorse,
Form:
Rhyme
They were on the summit of the hill as if poised in a portrait.
The breeze ruffling the stud's forelock and mane as he arched his head
responding to the reins he moved on as his rider leant forward and
rubbed his poll in affection. Tensed up his withers quivering he sprang into
action careening down the slope pulling up lame. His rider dismounted
and ran his hand down his legs finding some heat in the fetlock. Lifting
his leg he found the cause a stone lodged in his frog, using his hoof
pick he dislodged it thanking his lucky stars that it was not a pulled stifle.
Checking his hind legs for heat in the hocks and gaskin he found all to be well.
He patted his croup in affection and re-examined the front leg still a little heat but his coronet seemed fine. A week's rest should put him right allowing the bruised frog time to heal. It would be tight to keep him fit for their big show in three weeks time but a strained stifle would have put him out of action for at least six weeks. On foot he lead Silver back to the stables and there applied a poultice to his hoof which he would change daily until the frog recovered, leaving Silver munching happily on hay. He walked into the tack room and replaced his tack and stood admiring the rows of rosettes that lined the walls.. The upcoming show would give him the final proof of how superb he was and then people would flock to bring their mares to him and his line would be perpetuated long into the future.
Categories:
stables, horse,
Form:
Narrative
bayboats purse seine whey
journey yearlong gay
laddy inured dry up
haughty yachty yea
mildred mayhem dewlap
naughty jaunty jay
sons caught in car capers
haughty yachty yea
vicar baking in butterfat
orphan boy screwed in larder
bluejay frollic jane
and a haughty yachty yea
bombs in bay bombard
dickson singsick cockpit
french chicks s’envoient en l'air*
oh a haughty yachty yea
idols jailed in temples
choked in garlandy incense
priestly eyedance pose
yes a haughty yachty yea
masons’ mildewy masters
with compass stone and pilasters
plan solomon’s might on earth
yea sing haughty yachty yea
royal houses love in stables
lords and ladies love in regalia
loving ones love in limbo
cry haughty yachty yea
dote on damsels in december
hey yachty haughty yea
make them deliver in september
ho yickety yackety yea eh
* "s'envoient en l'air": French, literally, for "throwing legs up in the air"; in France - guess, if you can - this phrase means: ???
©T.Wignesan - Paris, May 4, 1997
[from the collection : longhand notes: a binding of poems. Paris: 1999]
Categories:
stables, funny, love,
Form:
Burlesque